


On the road

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [131]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Trouble, M/M, Past relationship mention, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: Stiles knew that taking Roscoe on the trip across country was not his most sensible idea. He didn't really have a choice though. So when the Jeep breaks down and leaves him stranded, the only think he has to help him is his phone.Then he gets a message from an unknown number.





	On the road

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoonficlet.tumblr.com) challenge - prompt #325: fix

"Come on, baby," Stiles says in a frustrated tone when he hears the familiar spluttering of Roscoe's engine. 

It does nothing and the car stutters to a halt, silence only interrupted by quiet sounds of music from the small battery-operated radio that's sitting on the passenger seat, Roscoe's own old cassette player long dead and not functional. 

"See, this is why I wanted to leave you with Scott," Stiles tells the dashboard, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. 

That _was_  the plan originally—he'd leave Roscoe for Scott to use instead of his old dirt bike and he’d drive back to college with Lydia—but it didn't work out that way. There was a mutual decision to break up, a flight for Lydia back to Boston, Rafael springing for a car for Scott, and Stiles alone on the road in Roscoe, despite any and all reservations that everyone had about it. By everyone, Stiles means his father, of course. There was no other option though, since his visit to Beacon Hills—necessary as it was to get rid of the hunters—wasn't planned and neither his father nor Stiles had the budget to spring for the trip back to school. 

"You couldn't have lasted until I got to a populated area, at least?" Stiles asks Roscoe, then glances around the emptiness around him. 

He's not even on a highway, because he'd decided to take the scenic route where he wouldn't slow down the flow of traffic _and_  where he would stumble upon more potential pit stops along the way. Not that he has a chance for one of those now, since he's on the one stretch of road where there's nothing for another few miles. He checks the map on his phone anyway, cursing as the coverage makes it take longer than he has the patience for right now. It proves that he's well and truly stuck, though at least it's still daytime. 

Phone in hand, Stiles scrolls through his contact list and the recently dialed numbers, then sighs.

"Well, let's see if I can fix you up the usual way," he tells Roscoe and gets out, tucking his phone into his jeans. 

There's no point calling any of the people he would normally call, he's too far away from any of them for it to do any good. So he pulls out the duct tape from the glove compartment once he rounds to the passenger side, then he pops the hood open and grumbles. There's no smoke, at least, but that means that it will take a little longer to figure out what he needs to tape up so that he can get back on the road again. 

"What's wrong with you, baby?" Stiles asks as he checks the wires and pipes and everything else that's already covered in impromptu fixes from over the years. 

There doesn't seem to be anything that he can wrap in tape to get Roscoe running again and Stiles wonders if it's just that the Jeep finally gave up and died for good. Considering where he is, he really hopes that's not the case. With the crappy insurance he can afford, he wonders if he can even get a tow from here, especially since he's not in California anymore. 

That's when his phone buzzes against his thigh, startling him enough that he yelps. It vibrates again before he can pull it out. 

_I hope that's not you stranded in the middle of nowhere.  
Well, guess I should have known better._

The second message is obviously a reaction to the way Stiles jumped and almost hit his head on Roscoe's hood. Both of them are from a number that he doesn't have in his contact list, but he has a suspicion about the sender.

**Should I worry about being stalked?**  Stiles texts back. 

Just as he hits send, he hears the familiar rumble of a car he doesn't have to look for. A black Camaro shows up from behind the trees that obscure a bend in the road. 

**Also, how did you even see me?**  Stiles adds to his message. 

He didn't hear or see the Camaro, but he knows what the answer will be. He doesn't get it until the Camaro pulls up behind Roscoe and Derek gets out, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Werewolf," he deadpans, which makes Stiles roll his eyes. 

"Didn't know you learned how to see _through_  trees," he tells Derek. 

"Now you know."

For a beat, they stand there in silence, Stiles with the roll of tape still in his hand, Derek's eyes darting between him and Roscoe. 

"You really shouldn't have dragged the poor Jeep on a cross-country trip," Derek tells him then.

Stiles snorts. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," he says with so much sarcasm dripping from his voice that he internally cringes at himself. 

Part of him is really glad that Derek showed up, because he's not sure if he would be able to fix Roscoe by himself. Part of him is annoyed about having things that he already _knows_  pointed out to him like this. 

A tiny part of him did a tiny internal dance that it's Derek, of all possible people, who is here now. It's a tiny part that he has been pushing down and ignoring for years now, one he's refusing to acknowledge for reasons that he can't name. It's the same part of him that distracts him from the issue at hand—which is how he's going to get moving again with Roscoe dead in the water—because it focuses on the way Derek's leaning against Roscoe's side, legs and arms crossed in a way that accentuates the muscles Stiles can see under the thin layer of Derek's top and his skinny jeans. 

It's the same tiny part that is very likely a reason for the way Derek's eyebrow is moving up as Stiles fights himself so he stops _staring_. 

"So, are you here to gloat or help?" Stiles asks, pushing down everything else that he's feeling.

"I'm here," Derek starts, pointedly looking at the road and his Camaro, "to get back to New York."

"Doesn't look like you're _going_  right now."

"I can, if you don't want my help," Derek quips but doesn't move. "But I think your father might find a way to kill me if I leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere."

"He wouldn't," Stiles tries to protest, but he's pretty sure Derek's right. 

Well, right after his dad would lecture Stiles about the decision to drive Roscoe across the country without getting it checked over by a qualified mechanic beforehand. 

"I don't know what's wrong," Stiles admits then. "Roscoe's just... dead. I mean, I looked the engine over and I don't know what needs to be fixed. I don't suppose you have been secretly running a garage? Or been trained as a mechanic? Or that you have a magic wand to make Roscoe work again?" 

The moment the last question is out of his mouth, Stiles knows that it was a bad choice of words, before he sees Derek's smirk and his eyebrows raising again, this time in amusement.

"You're the one with magic," Derek says as he pushes away from the Jeep and starts walking to the popped hood.

"Not magic. Just apparently able to throw dust in the right way," Stiles mutters. "Don't think that would be any good here." 

"Probably not," Derek says with a nod. "I don't think _anything_  is going to be any good here," he says as his hands move to the engine and he starts poking at all the things that Stiles has already poked at. 

"Don't say that," Stiles tells him with a hint of desperation in his voice. 

It's partly because he doesn't want Roscoe to be completely gone, partly because it would mean he'd need to find a way to get back to school fast enough to not get kicked out because of missing too many classes. He's refusing to think about how bad it would be to miss the training classes in the agency. 

"Well, would you like me to _lie_  to you?" Derek glances up from Roscoe and levels Stiles with a glare. "It's a miracle that you got this far with the Jeep." 

"I'm aware," Stiles says in a defeated tone. "I figured I'd need to scrap the whole car once I got to school, but I was really hoping I'd get _there_  at least."

Derek stands up and looks at his grease-covered hands, obviously done looking for a fix to Roscoe's situation. 

"You'll need a mechanic," he says, leaving no room for argument.

"I'm guessing that means that you aren't one?" Stiles asks with a hint of hope. 

Derek shakes his head. 

"I'll call for a tow, there's a garage a few miles back," he says. "I thought you would've seen it driving past."

"I did. But Roscoe was in motion then so I didn't think to take notes like phone numbers then," Stiles snarks weakly. 

"Google, Stiles," Derek tells him with a scoff and a smirk, already swiping fingers across his phone screen.

"On that note, since when do _you_  have a phone?" Stiles asks, brain redirecting from his current predicament. 

"A few weeks," Derek says, not looking up from his phone. "Figured it was a better idea than having Chris track me down and potentially blowing my cover." 

Stiles snorts, then watches as Derek makes a quick phone call. 

"Tow's on the way," Derek says. "I can drive you to the garage." 

"Don't you have places to go? People to see?" 

"Yes, but I'm not in a rush. And no." 

it's Stiles's turn to raise a questioning eyebrow in surprise. Last he knew, Derek wasn't single, at least. 

"Cora's not in New York," Derek says.

Stiles figures that Derek  _knows_  what the questioning glance was about and that's answer enough. 

"Thank you," he says instead of poking more, earning himself a nod. 

When the tow arrives, Stiles grabs his backpack from Roscoe and slides into the Camaro's passenger seat. Neither he nor Derek talk for the short drive to the garage, where Stiles listens to the initial assessment of what Roscoe's status is. As he expected, it's not good and he starts making calculations in his head about how he's going to afford the repairs. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
